There is nowhere I’d rather be right now.
“Kieran!” he yells over the music. “Look!”
I cross the kitchen and peer over his shoulder at the cookie in front of him. “What the hell is that? A Christmas…polliwog?” That can’t be right.
“Dude, it’s a sperm.” He glances at me like maybe I need to get my eyes checked. “I mean, I did a good job on the tail.”
“Yes, you did.” I chuckle. “But I don’t know how many of those you can sell.” Lately Roderick is obsessed with getting the Busy Bean’s revenue up. He wants to prove his worth.
To me, he already has.
“They’re not for Christmas! They’re for Audrey’s baby shower. She said there was no reason to be boring. There’s going to be a cornhole competition with sperm-shaped beanbags.”
“Wait—really? I thought she and Zara were just joking.”
“Nope!” His laugh is gleeful. “I’m just playing to my audience, working with the baby-making theme.”
“So you’re feeding everyone a happy-faced sperm. Do sperm smile?”
“Mine do,” he says, craning his neck to kiss the corner of my mouth. “I could give you a demonstration.” He nuzzles my jaw, and I feel goosebumps rise up on my back.
It turns out that I like being touched. A lot. I’ve gotten very used to having his hands on my body. I step in close and kiss his neck. He smells like shampoo and vanilla cookies.
My phone rings, and since it’s in my shirt pocket, we both hear it. Roderick steps away, and when I look at the screen, I curse. It’s my mother, and I have not returned any of her recent calls. Rod turns down the music, and so, of course, now I have to answer.
“Hello?”
“Kieran. I’m so glad I caught you,” my mother says. “I was hoping you could come out and cut a Christmas tree for us. You always pick such a good one. And Christmas is almost here.”
Oh Lord. Today is one of the few days this week that I’m not scheduled to drive out there. “Kyle could do it, Ma. It’ll take him twenty minutes.”
“But you always cut the Christmas tree,” she says. “And I never see you anymore. Your truck pulls up, and you do the chores, and then you leave before dinner. Rexie gets more time with you than I do.”
She’s right, of course. But why would I want to sit down at that table, where I don’t feel welcome, and I haven’t since I was a teen? Roderick’s eyes flick over to me and they look a little nervous. He’s the most observant person I’ve ever met, but somehow it never feels like an intrusion. I see you, his glance says.
“Ma, I’ll cut the tree. But I can’t stick around. There’s a bunch of things I need to do today to get ready for another busy week.”
“You’ll stand it up in the living room, right?” she presses.
“Sure, so long as Kyle is there to help me.”
“Okay,” she says, giving a sniff. “It’ll have to do.”
“Give me like an hour,” I tell her. After I disconnect the call, I text my brother to make sure he’s available for this little charade.
“Everything okay?” Roderick asks.
“Yeah, you know, just the parents. They’re exhausting.” He leans over to decorate another cookie, and it gives me an idea. “Hey, Roddy?”
“Yes?”
“I gotta go to my folks’ place for a couple hours.”
“Oh. Okay.” His shoulders droop. “I’ll put the roast in while you’re gone.”
“I was going to ask if you want to come with me. You wanted a Christmas tree, right?”
He straightens up immediately, setting the pastry bag down with a thunk. “Of course I want a tree.”
“Then drive out there with me. I’ll cut down two, and we’ll bring one home. We’ll need a stand, though,” I say, thinking this over. “And some lights.”
“Not a problem,” Rod says happily. “The drugstore has all that stuff. This is great! How big a tree do you think will fit in the living room? The ceiling is pretty high.”
“Whoa there, fella. Just because we have a twelve foot ceiling doesn’t mean we need a monster tree.”
“Where do you cut trees around here, anyway?”
“Oh, on our farm,” I say. “We have a couple rows of them planted, just for this.”
“And they won’t mind if one goes missing?” he asks, looking happy.
“They wouldn’t dare. Who do you think pruned those fuckers this summer? Get your coat.”
“It’s the next turn-off,” I say an hour later as I wind my truck up the hill toward my parents’ place. A light snow has begun to fall.
“Kind of a long drive from the high school,” Rod says.
“Yeah, but our land is zoned for Walden, which is a sending town.” That’s what we call a town that’s not big enough to have its own high school. “We had school choice. And all our cousins went to Colebury. So did my parents.”
“So it’s a tradition to drive twenty miles to school.”
“Pretty much. When I was in ninth grade, Kyle drove me. And of course my father had me take the driver’s test the week of my birthday.”
“Getting my license was like magic,” he says, leaning his head against the headrest. “I wanted freedom so fucking bad.”
“Same.”
Roderick is humming a Christmas carol and looking out the passenger window. “It’s pretty up here,” he says as the snowflakes fall slowly past us.
“Yeah.” But I feel suddenly reluctant to show him this place where I grew up. “It’s not like my aunt Ruth’s place, though. It’s not party central.”
“I’m just here to watch you chop down a tree with an ax.”
“If I use a hand saw, is that a dealbreaker?”
“Nope!” he says cheerfully. “Just flex for me while you’re doing it.”
It’s all fun and games until I pull up to find Kyle’s truck missing. “Oh, hell.”
“What’s the matter?”
“My brother was supposed to be here to help me get the Christmas tree in the stand. Looks like he flaked out on me.”
“I’ll help you,” Roddy says. “Unless you don’t want me to come inside.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say quickly. The truth is that I’d rather he didn’t witness the awkward way my family exists near each other. We’re like a constellation in the night sky—people associate the stars with one another, but those stars only look like a group. They’re really millions of light years apart.
And I don’t want to explain why I’m the reason everyone in this house is unhappy.
I park the car over by the tool shed. “Bundle up. We have to walk all the way over there.” I point across the meadow.
“No problemo.” Roderick puts on his gloves and hops out.
I get a saw out of the shed. As we’re crossing the meadow, the farmhouse door opens and shuts. I hear a happy bark. Rexie streaks across the field, ears flying.
“Hey, boy!” I greet him by kneeling down, so he can do his best to push me over and lick my face. “Hey! Who’s a good boy.”